"I've already seen everything.'
The voice was a low, gravelly vibration that refused to leave her head. In the sanctuary of the Hotel's marble shower, the steam was thick enough to choke, yet it couldn't blur the vivid memory of Raymond's face. Every detail was etched into the back of her eyelids, the dark intensity in his stare and that shadow of a smirk that felt like a challenge. Wet hair was gripped tight, fingers digging into her scalp as the scalding water tried, and failed to scrub away the phantom sensation of his touch.
A scream built up in the back of her throat, a raw wave of frustration at the chaos she'd invited into her life. But the outburst never came. Instead, a long, shuddering breath was forced through her lungs. A Fortunata did not break, and they certainly didn't let a one-night stand shatter their composure. By the time the faucet was turned off, the mask was already being reconstructed.
Emerging into the suite, the cool air hit her skin like a reality check. Zara was already there, a silent, efficient shadow waiting by the vanity with a tablet in hand.
"Well?" The question was sharp, cutting through the hum of the air conditioner. "Have you reached him? Is the meeting confirmed?"
"Everything is set, Nona," Zara replied, her professional veneer as flawless as ever. "Contact has been made. He'll send the coordinates shortly."
"Good. Have some food brought up, something light. I need the fuel before I head out."
"Of course. I'll arrange for room service immediately so you don't have to deal with the lobby."
"Do that. I'm not in the mood for an audience."
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the soft click of Zara's tablet. The assistant didn't leave immediately; instead, her gaze lingered on her reflection in the mirror, searching for the cracks that she knew were there. As someone who was more sister than staff, the concern in her eyes was palpable.
"Nona … are you truly alright?"
The gaze in the mirror snapped to meet hers, cold and defensive. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I'm just worried. You didn't return last night. Celia was frantic, we had no idea if you were safe."
A weary sigh escaped, the rigid tension in those shoulders finally sagging a fraction. It was the only crack Phoebe allowed "I'm fine, Zara. Really, just … a long night. Don't worry about it."
"I understand. I'll go see to the meal." A small, respectful bow followed before the footsteps retreated, leaving the room to its hollow silence.
Left alone, her hand white-knuckled were balled into fists. Ordinary, act ordinary. Last night had to be framed as a transaction, an expensive, fleeting indulgence to numb the pain Nick had caused. A dry, humourless chuckle vibrated in the quiet air. If she was being honest with herself in the dark, the man was anything but a disappointment. He was a predator, and for one night, he was exactly the distraction she needed.
*****
"Are you suggesting I terminate my contracts with Nick's firm?" Marco asked, his voice wavering as he felt the temperature in the room seemingly drop.
Phoebe took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, letting the silence stretch until it became an interrogation. Then, she offered a razor thin smile.
"Oh, certainly not, Signor Marco. I would never presume to dictate your alliances," she replied, her voice like silk over a blade. "Every empire has its own trajectory. I've always admired your reputation as a man who knows exactly how to pick the winning side. I'd hate for that reputation to … change."
Marco's grip on his espresso cup tightened.
"I asked for this sit-down simply for the sake of transparency," phoebe continued, her gaze locking onto his with predatory focus. "I have officially severed all ties with Nick. You must understand, Signor, my firm was the one holding the reins. We provided the strategy, the capital, and the absolute control that kept his business afloat. My exit doesn't just leave a void; it leaves hit with nothing but an empty shell."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Without my hand guiding the operation, Nick isn't a partner. He is a liability. I'm telling you this so you don't find yourself sinking with a ship that np longer has a captain, or a floor."
"I see," Marco murmured, his face pale. "Thank you for the … clarity, Nona. It is much appreciated."
"Of course. The choice is entirely your prerogative, Signor Marco." Phoebe rose with effortless grace. "I'm simply making sure you stay on the right side of history."
Zara could only nod in silence, suppressing a weary sigh. She knew Phoebe's brilliance all too well. By whispering into the ears of these stakeholders now, Phoebe was quietly dismantling Nick's empire, pillar by pillar, before he even knew he was under attack.
The official announcement of the split wouldn't hit the press until they landed in Australia. By the time Nick realized what was happening, he would be standing in the ruins of a company with no allies left. Nick thought he was playing a game of chess, but Phoebe had already burned the board.
*****
The room was draped in shadows, save for a dim light illuminated the dancing dust motes in the air. Guards stood like frozen statues form the entrance to the interior. In the middle, a man sat bound to a steel chair, his eyes covered by a black blindfold, leaving him submerged in a world of absolute, suffocating terror.
In the outer corridor, slow and heavy footsteps echoed. Raymond, dressed in a bespoke black suit that perfectly fit his towering frame, approached the room. Thee of his inner circle followed behind like silent shadows. Every guard he passed bowed instinctively, offering absolute fealty to their boss.
"He is inside, Boss," a guard murmured, pulling open the heavy door.
Raymond's pace was casual, yet his aura alone seemed to flash-freeze the room. When the blindfold was ripped away, the man was immediately met with Raymond's gaze, hollow, oppressive, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"A little rat like you … thinks he can play game with me?" Raymond asked, his voice flat.
"No, Sir!" the man stammered, trembling violently. He knew this room was a dead end; a place where life no longer held any currency.
"You are a truly thankless creature. I guaranteed your life; I even paid you children's education. And yet, you were foolish enough to betray me?"
A ghost of a smirk touched Raymond's lips, a smile that never reached his eyes. He wasn't angry; he was simply revolted be the man's stupidity. Without a word, Raymond pulled a gold lighter from his pocket. He flicked it open, stared at the flame for a moment, and with terrifying composure, pressed the searing hot metal against the man's neck.
The man let out a muffled scream of agony, but Raymond didn't flinch. His other hand remained casually tucked in his pocket.
"I don't like exerting effort for trash," Raymond whispered directly into his ear. "But I do like ensuring that trash is put exactly, where it belongs."
Raymond stepped back, smoothing a non-existent crease on his jacket. He glanced at his luxury watch as if the man's time had already expired.
"Finish it. Make sure there is nothing left to bury," he commanded the guards, walking out without a backward glance.
****
Raymond retreated to a private lounge, the silence of the room a stark contrast to the violence he had just left behind. He poured himself a glass of aged single malt, smooth and refined. He swirled the amber liquid, watching it clings to the crystal glass before taking a slow, deliberate sip.
A man entered the room with quiet efficiency and placed a thin folder on the table.
"I have the information on the owner of the earring."
Raymond set his glass down and opened the file. It wasn't a thick dossier, just the essentials. His eyes scanned the name and her origins. A slow, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back.
"So, she's an Australian girl," Raymond murmured, his voice low and laced with intrigue. "I've never encountered a woman quite as fascinating as her before."
Raymond's fingers reached into the folder, pulling out a single, small photograph of Phoebe. He held between his fingertips, studying her features under the dim light as if memorizing a map.
"Keep a constant watch on her," Raymond commanded, his voice dropping into a low, lethal vibration. "I don't want a single fascinating detail about her to go unnoticed."
"Yes, Boss," the man replied with a sharp, disciplined nod before disappearing into the shadows.
Raymond didn't look up. His gaze remained fixed on the photograph, his dark smirk deepening. The game had finally found a player worth his time.